


Can Blaze be shown

by willowcabins



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2166921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/pseuds/willowcabins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw wants Root to cry her name, but even as Root moans, she has a knowing smile on her face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can Blaze be shown

**Author's Note:**

> Q: why do all your characters always have wall sex?  
> A: Sometimes they have sex on tables/couches???????????????

Shaw has wrapped the fingers of her left hand around Root’s wrist, restraining her against the wall. Root gasps, though the minute sign of weakness is followed by a smirk as she arches into Shaw’s touch. Shaw growls louder and places an her right palm on Root’s breastbone and _pushes_. Root slams back into the wall with a loud thump and she hisses. Shaw’s hand moves from her breast bone to a small breast and Root’s hiss turns into a strangled gasp. Shaw kisses her again, all tongues and teeth and a damaging edge sharper than steel. Shaw wants Root to cry her name, but even as Root moans, she has a knowing smile on her face. Shaw growls, and suddenly switches tactics. She pinches Root’s nipple, and then lowers her mouth to it. She latches on and licks, soothingly. Root groans, and stutters something that sounds like the beginning of Shaw’s name. But she catches herself before the name fully forms, and Shaw bits down on the nipple, hard.

Another gasp, and now Root’s hands have wrestled themselves free and are in Shaw’s hair, pulling.

“Please,” Root groans. Shaw looks up, wrapping her now free left arm around Root’s waist. She pulls Root closer, and bites down on Root’s nipple again, soothing the momentary stab of pain with a quick suck and a soothing swipe of the tongue. Root’s fingers scratch Shaw’s scalp, and Shaw laughs against Root’s breast.

“Shaw,” Root protests, giving in. Shaw leaves her ministrations at Root’s nipples and travels up her body with her _own_ satisfied smirk. Her right hand cups Root’s face again. Root leans into the touch, and Shaw pushes her further against the wall.

“Shaw, I want you,” Root protests and when she says Shaw’s name she gives it a desperate edge. Shaw leans forward and kisses her again; its softer this time. She wants to taste her name on Root’s lips. The short nails in Root’s fingers dig into Shaw’s neck, and she groans into Root.

“Shaw,” she whispers again, and now Shaw’s _hunger_ for Root is nearly insatiable. She wants to honor and idolize every centimeter of Root’s body. Her kisses leave Root’s mouth and she begins travelling down Root’s neck. Root is clawing at her, trying to express her _need_ in frantic touches and rushed breaths. But Shaw’ exaltation will not be rushed; Root’s body, a vessel for laudation, deserves more than Shaw’s casual homage. It is a relic rich for deification.

But Shaw’s desire to worship can be overturned. “Shaw, I _need you_ ,” Root growls as Shaw trails her teeth down Root’s stomach. Shaw growls and bites down on the soft flesh. Root pushes her down, and Shaw submits, falling to her knees.

She grabs the inside of Root’s knee, and squeezes; Root lifts her leg, and rests her thigh on Shaw’s shoulder. Shaw breathes on the sensitive inside of Root’s thigh. Root’s heel digs into Shaw’s back and she arches against the wall, pushing her hips forward. Shaw smirks while Root’s hands fall to Shaw’s hair, pulling at her desperately. Shaw trails harsh nips along the inside of Root’s thigh. An electric shiver runs up Root’s back, and she clenches and shivers, wall rough around her. Shaw leans in; she can _feel_ the heat, and smell the humid desperation. Root’s hell pushes her forward again, so Shaw licks the rough fabric of Root’s lace underwear. Shaw knows rubbing the rough fabric against Root’s sensitive labia will drive her _more_ insane. And tonight, Shaw wants Root to cry for mercy, shout Shaw’s name, louder than ever before, and acknowledge that sometimes Shaw can facilitate her ascension.

Root does not utter a peep. Shaw does not even whine; instead, Root’s fingernails graze Shaw’s skull. Root’s careless violence tingles down Shaw’s own spine, so Shaw does it again. This time she doesn’t only lick the black fabric; she runs her teeth along it. The warm wetness of Shaw’s mouth _so close_ to where Root wants it is too much. Root convulses, and gasps. “Shaw,” she hisses. Shaw smirks up at her.

‘Positive reinforcement,’ she thinks to herself, remembering that one psychology class she had to take where the professor showed a video with rats on crack. She pushed aside Root’s underwear and ran her tongue along Root’s labia. Perhaps Root is her crack; she tastes like honey and something deeper, more angry (sometimes Shaw thinks this is how dynamite would taste). Root shudders into her; her left knee buckles and Shaw bares more weight on her shoulder. She doesn’t mind. She just looks up, and holds Root’s gaze as she licks again, purposeful and prodding. Root gasps again, pulling Shaw closer by the hair. The sharp tug, straining Shaw’s hair echoes in her own groin.

She pauses, and pulls down Root’s underwear, leaving it to pool around Root’s ankles so that she can concentrate on Root’s clit. Root smells and rich and _desperate_. Shaw grins, and, placing her left hand on Root’s ass, pulls her forward to get a better purchase.

She licks and teases, and when Root begins twisting her hair and pleading louder, she obliges, and _sucks_. Root shivers and gasps, unapologetically pushing her groin down on Shaw’s face. Shaw sucks, and then grazed her teeth over Root’s overly sensitive clit. Root clenches again, and knocking her head against the brick wall, demands _something_ to alleviate the tension. Her demand is met with another harsh graze of teeth against clit. Root’s eyes nearly roll into the back of her head and she _twists_ Shaw’s hair savagely. This gets even _less_ of a result; Shaw gasps in a combination of deep arousal and pain, and her cold breath on Root’s oversensitive clit is nearly murder.

“Shaw,” she cries desperately, and when Shaw doesn’t react fast enough, a higher pitched, more desperate “Sameen _please_ ,” escapes Root’s lips. Shaw is scrambling near the edge now too, and is too crazed to relish her victory wholeheartedly. Instead she pushes Root’s leg off her shoulder. Root sags against the wall, but Shaw steadies her with a hand on her hip, before her hand slips into Root’s cunt. She rises up, and leans her head against Root’s shoulder as her hand (pushed further by her hips), begins and unforgiving rhythm.

Shaw loves to watch Root fall apart. She loves the feel to Root clenching and gasping and _pushing_ against her, but more than anything there is that flutter of the eyelids and that clench of the teeth, white flashing, and that frustrated, barely suppressed cry. She moans, and Shaw can feel just how close she is. She crooks her fingers _just slightly_ and pushes her palm against Root’s clit. She doesn’t stop her unrelenting rhythm.

There is a quiet, desperate whisper: “Shaw.” Shaw’s whole body shivers, and she feels on the urge of her own collapse. So she _pushes,_ and hisses, “see, I got you begging.” Root’s laugh is strangled, and replaced by a moan, louder than any others. She is _so close_. Shaw just steps on her tiptoes, pushing her fingers _further_ , and kisses Root. It’s a light, wet graze of lips still smeared in Root, but it pushes her over. She clenches around Shaw and _yells,_ and then comes apart in seconds of exploding electricity and cracking cries.

Shaw leaves her fingers where they are, but drops back down to her own knees. As Root rides her orgasm on Shaw’s hand, Shaw’s other hand pushes her in the wall harder as she sucks on Root’s clit again. Root lets out a high pitched cry as she succumbs to a second, smaller orgasm. Shaw lets her ride it out and chuckles against her skin. She slowly extracts her finger and straightens up to lean against Root again.

“Any good?” Shaw asks, sarcastically, kissing Root gently. Root’s eyes focus on Shaw, and she narrows her eyes.

“Why do we never have time to get to your bed?” She asks flippantly. Shaw sucks her fingers, tasting dynamite and honey and something more sinister. She rolls her eyes.

“I sleep in my bed,” she explains, stepping away from Root. Root steps with her, hand trailing down Shaw’s skin.

“Well, let’s go to bed _now_ ,” Root murmurs, advancing slowly. “You’re still wearing your underwear.” Shaw glares at Root.

“No! I told you! The bed is for _sleeping_.” Root rolls her eyes and pushes Shaw down on the sofa instead, straddling her comfortably.

“Better?” She asks, words whispered against Shaw’s slightly agape mouth. Shaw doesn’t bother answering: she just kisses Root.

**Author's Note:**

> I found the words to every thought  
> I ever had – but One  
> And that – defies Me –  
> As a Hand did try to chalk the Sun


End file.
